My children watch too much television. I admit this, am not particularly happy about it, and have thus far done nothing to change it. In light of a recent conversation, I just might have to change my stance. It was not about the brain cells lost by watching television, the lack of creativity because of it or the link to an increased risk of obesity and ADHD. It was about ... booger people.
Wanting to fit in with their peers, my kids have been sporting snotty noses for the past several weeks. I am fighting a loosing battle against snot in inappropriate places - sleeves, couches, my clothes, etc. After observing the offending material being placed on the furniture, I pulled Miss E aside for a discussion.
Our conversation went something like this:
Me: "Don't wipe boogers on the couch. Go get a tissue."
E: "Why?" (with finger firmly planted in nare)
Me: "Get your finger out of your nose! That's just gross!"
E: "But Momma, I have booger people in my nose. They are having a party."
Me: "What?"
E: "I have booger people. I trying to get them out."
Anyone else familiar with the Mucinex commericals? Clearly my four-year-old has a decent grasp of the concept.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Time Out ... Mommy Style
Help, I have a Diva ... and she's out of control!
Time out is a regular occurance in our home. Some days we stop there before making it to breakfast in the morning. If we can get through the morning without a visit, there is cause for celebration ... or the feeling that something must be horribly wrong with my Diva.
The rules are really quite simple:
Recently, Diva was on her way to that all to familiar place. As is usually the case, she felt the need to throw a fit and take off her clothes (not sure why those always seem to go together) before settling into time out. I reminded her of the rules and laid down on the couch to wait out the screaming.
Fastforward about an hour ...
I realize, looking at the clock, apparently I had fallen asleep. The house is remarkably intact, there is no screaming and I can hear both kids playing ... all good signs after an unintentional nap!
At this point, Diva (still sans clothes) comes up to me and says:
"Mommy I got out of time out when you were asleep."
Yeah, I got nothing!!! If Mommy falls asleep before you can make it to rule #2, it is kind of hard to continue on to #3 and #4.
Time out is a regular occurance in our home. Some days we stop there before making it to breakfast in the morning. If we can get through the morning without a visit, there is cause for celebration ... or the feeling that something must be horribly wrong with my Diva.
The rules are really quite simple:
- You must actually sit up in time out and remain in one spot.
- Your time begins when you are sitting quietly.
- If you begin screaming, your time will start over.
- After the timer goes off, you must go to the person that put you there and talk about why you ended up in time out.
Recently, Diva was on her way to that all to familiar place. As is usually the case, she felt the need to throw a fit and take off her clothes (not sure why those always seem to go together) before settling into time out. I reminded her of the rules and laid down on the couch to wait out the screaming.
Fastforward about an hour ...
I realize, looking at the clock, apparently I had fallen asleep. The house is remarkably intact, there is no screaming and I can hear both kids playing ... all good signs after an unintentional nap!
At this point, Diva (still sans clothes) comes up to me and says:
"Mommy I got out of time out when you were asleep."
Yeah, I got nothing!!! If Mommy falls asleep before you can make it to rule #2, it is kind of hard to continue on to #3 and #4.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Learning Your Place
In an effort to avoid two kids in diapers, I have begun an all-out campaign to potty train Little Man before our new arrival comes this spring. This has been done with much hesitation, as Diva took the better part of a year to master this task (no doubt, due in part to a particularly strong stubborn streak).
Hoping to shorten the time required this trip, there have been some changes to the process. We picked a day to start and began the countdown several days before. When the big day finally arrived, all diapers were removed from view and Little Man was told "Big boys don't wear diapers, they put pee-pee in the potty." Taking a cue from what worked with Diva, I then stripped him down and said pull-ups were only to be used outside of the house and at bedtime. That first day was a dream: no accidents, taking himself to the potty and a dry pull-up after a four hour outing.
That was the first day ... not to be confused with the second day.
Early the second morning, we were snuggled up on the couch watching cartoons. Pajamas for me and Little Man in his birthday suit. As a side note, this is the newest couch in the house that sits on a room-sized pottery barn rug ... you know that can't possibly end well!
Cozy on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket ... then the realization of something warm and wet on me. It takes a moment for it all to sink in. The still peeing child is tossed off of me and onto the rug (because it would be way too easy to just let him finish and then change my clothes!)
While cleaning up the mess (him, me, couch and rug), he discovers that the beloved geen bainket had been hit. Hysteria ensues. Big tears. "I pee-pee geen bainket." "Geen bainket nasty." Anger gives way to feeling sorry for my little guy. After being assured that geen bainket can be fixed, he begins to calm down.
I take this moment to do a bit of potty training reinforcement:
Me: "Where to big boys pee-pee?"
Little Man: "In da potty"
Me: "Where did you pee-pee?"
Little Man: "On Mommy"
Me: "Why did you pee-pee on Mommy?"
Little Man: "Because" with no hint of remorse
Me: "Do you think Mommy likes for you the pee-pee on her?"
Little Man: "Yeah" with a great big smile
It now occurs to me, he was absolutely crushed at the thought of peeing on his blanket, yet doing the same thing to Mommy made him smile.
No longer feeling sorry for him!!!!
Hoping to shorten the time required this trip, there have been some changes to the process. We picked a day to start and began the countdown several days before. When the big day finally arrived, all diapers were removed from view and Little Man was told "Big boys don't wear diapers, they put pee-pee in the potty." Taking a cue from what worked with Diva, I then stripped him down and said pull-ups were only to be used outside of the house and at bedtime. That first day was a dream: no accidents, taking himself to the potty and a dry pull-up after a four hour outing.
That was the first day ... not to be confused with the second day.
Early the second morning, we were snuggled up on the couch watching cartoons. Pajamas for me and Little Man in his birthday suit. As a side note, this is the newest couch in the house that sits on a room-sized pottery barn rug ... you know that can't possibly end well!
Cozy on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket ... then the realization of something warm and wet on me. It takes a moment for it all to sink in. The still peeing child is tossed off of me and onto the rug (because it would be way too easy to just let him finish and then change my clothes!)
While cleaning up the mess (him, me, couch and rug), he discovers that the beloved geen bainket had been hit. Hysteria ensues. Big tears. "I pee-pee geen bainket." "Geen bainket nasty." Anger gives way to feeling sorry for my little guy. After being assured that geen bainket can be fixed, he begins to calm down.
I take this moment to do a bit of potty training reinforcement:
Me: "Where to big boys pee-pee?"
Little Man: "In da potty"
Me: "Where did you pee-pee?"
Little Man: "On Mommy"
Me: "Why did you pee-pee on Mommy?"
Little Man: "Because" with no hint of remorse
Me: "Do you think Mommy likes for you the pee-pee on her?"
Little Man: "Yeah" with a great big smile
It now occurs to me, he was absolutely crushed at the thought of peeing on his blanket, yet doing the same thing to Mommy made him smile.
No longer feeling sorry for him!!!!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Self Esteem Boost
Recently, there were several errands to be done. As is usually the case, I headed out with kids in tow. Tops on my list was heading to a local maternity store ... seems that the "normal" undergarments are a bit snug these days. You know it's time to upsize when the victoria's secret cotton undies serve the same function as a pair of spanx! I explained to an inquisitive Diva that we had to go the the "Mommy Store," which seemed to suffice.
As we entered the store, Diva asked if this was the "Mommy Store." I distractedly said yes and headed towards the back of the store. Several items were chosen and we made our way back to the register. While waiting in line, Diva noticed the dressing rooms across from the register and questioned their purpose and then why I was not trying anything on. Attempting to explain such things to a four-year-old is a waste of time, but the effort was put forth.
My beautiful baby girl's response:
She held up the undies, looked at them for a moment and proclaimed "These will fit you because they are big mommy panties?"
Nice baby, very nice.
As we entered the store, Diva asked if this was the "Mommy Store." I distractedly said yes and headed towards the back of the store. Several items were chosen and we made our way back to the register. While waiting in line, Diva noticed the dressing rooms across from the register and questioned their purpose and then why I was not trying anything on. Attempting to explain such things to a four-year-old is a waste of time, but the effort was put forth.
My beautiful baby girl's response:
She held up the undies, looked at them for a moment and proclaimed "These will fit you because they are big mommy panties?"
Nice baby, very nice.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Dressing for Dinner
Anyone that has ever let a toddler feed themself will completely understand. The best approach involves stripping them down to a diaper and concluding dinner with an immediate trip to the bathtub. We have used this approach with both of the kids, with the "mess" potential determining the level of clothing removal. As they got older, we could typically manage with just taking off a shirt.
As Diva has gotten older, I have been trying to break her of the habit. I have visions of my teenager sitting down in the cafeteria and removing her shirt to eat a cheese sandwich "because that's what we do at home." For the most part, excepting spaghetti and other such offenders, Diva stays fully clothed for dinner. Mission accomplished!!!
Fast-forward a bit:
Not too long ago, Diva's beloved Kiki came for dinner. If you are unaware, Kiki is my 21 year-old sister. She played with the kids until I announced dinner was ready. Without missing a beat, Diva turned to Kiki and said:
"Come on Kiki, lets take our shirts off so we can eat."
Um ... mission not quite accomplished. Guess we will keep working on that one!!!
As Diva has gotten older, I have been trying to break her of the habit. I have visions of my teenager sitting down in the cafeteria and removing her shirt to eat a cheese sandwich "because that's what we do at home." For the most part, excepting spaghetti and other such offenders, Diva stays fully clothed for dinner. Mission accomplished!!!
Fast-forward a bit:
Not too long ago, Diva's beloved Kiki came for dinner. If you are unaware, Kiki is my 21 year-old sister. She played with the kids until I announced dinner was ready. Without missing a beat, Diva turned to Kiki and said:
"Come on Kiki, lets take our shirts off so we can eat."
Um ... mission not quite accomplished. Guess we will keep working on that one!!!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Pop Goes the Diva
A little background information:
In our house, passing gas is referred to as "pops." When Diva was little, she was quite scared by the prospect of passing gas, especially if this act was to occur in the bathtub. In an effort to make it okay, we explained that this was just her booty's way of talking ... thus "pops." This worked great for a two-year-old, but she has not remained a two-year-old.
The fear has passed. In fact, the comfort level has gotten a little too high lately. In an effort to instill some semblance of manners in Diva, we have set up some rules. "Pops" are not allowed at the table, in front of company, etc. If possible, she is to go to her room to "pop." She is surprisingly compliant with this ... and as an added bonus, it is also funny to watch. In mid conversation, she will take off running saying "I have to go to my room to pop." We get the concept that some things shouldn't be done in public, but not quite that we should be discreet about such things. It is a work in progress.
Fast-forward to the first day of school:
All of the family piles in the car to see Diva off on the first day of school. Pictures are taken as she walks into the building and makes her way towards her classroom. Her classroom is at the bottom of the stairs. As she started down the stairs, she paused. There were lots of people in the hallway and she was clearly blocking the flow of traffic. In an effort to speed her up, I called her by name and then attempted to nudge her down the stairs. I should know better by now ...
Feet firmly planted, she glared back at me and said:
"Hold on Momma, I was popping!"
Wow, really ... did we just announce that in front of the entire school and assorted family members? And it was an announcement, as we only have one volume level for sharing "personal" information ... and it's just a hair shy of screaming.
In our house, passing gas is referred to as "pops." When Diva was little, she was quite scared by the prospect of passing gas, especially if this act was to occur in the bathtub. In an effort to make it okay, we explained that this was just her booty's way of talking ... thus "pops." This worked great for a two-year-old, but she has not remained a two-year-old.
The fear has passed. In fact, the comfort level has gotten a little too high lately. In an effort to instill some semblance of manners in Diva, we have set up some rules. "Pops" are not allowed at the table, in front of company, etc. If possible, she is to go to her room to "pop." She is surprisingly compliant with this ... and as an added bonus, it is also funny to watch. In mid conversation, she will take off running saying "I have to go to my room to pop." We get the concept that some things shouldn't be done in public, but not quite that we should be discreet about such things. It is a work in progress.
Fast-forward to the first day of school:
All of the family piles in the car to see Diva off on the first day of school. Pictures are taken as she walks into the building and makes her way towards her classroom. Her classroom is at the bottom of the stairs. As she started down the stairs, she paused. There were lots of people in the hallway and she was clearly blocking the flow of traffic. In an effort to speed her up, I called her by name and then attempted to nudge her down the stairs. I should know better by now ...
Feet firmly planted, she glared back at me and said:
"Hold on Momma, I was popping!"
Wow, really ... did we just announce that in front of the entire school and assorted family members? And it was an announcement, as we only have one volume level for sharing "personal" information ... and it's just a hair shy of screaming.
Friday, August 21, 2009
A New Growth Chart
It is that time of year again - annual check-ups and vaccinations for the kids. We had an appointment scheduled for Tuesday. Since I felt no need to make things hard on myself, I waited until Monday night to notify Diva of our upcoming plans. We talked about going to the doctor so we could see what a big girl she was and how much she had grown. No, I made no mention of the shots ... I am a wimp and make no apologies for it.
I went to work that night and didn't give it much more thought, aside from how tired I was going to be. But, the wheels had apparently been spinning in Diva's head all night. When I got home early Tuesday morning, we had the following conversation:
Me: We need to hurry up and get ready so we can go to the doctor.
Diva: When I get to the doctor and take my panties off ...
Me (interupting): What? You don't have to take your panties off at the doctor. Why would you think that?
Daddy: No, just let her finish. This is good!
Me: Why do you need to take your panties off at the doctor?
Diva: So I can sit on the booty measuring 'sheen and we can see how big my booty is. 'Cause it keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger.
Daddy: What exactly did you tell her they do at the doctor's office?
Me: Well, not that!!!
As expected, while several measurements were taken at the doctor's office, there was no measuring of booties. They are still more concerned with height and weight, not the size of one's booty.
I went to work that night and didn't give it much more thought, aside from how tired I was going to be. But, the wheels had apparently been spinning in Diva's head all night. When I got home early Tuesday morning, we had the following conversation:
Me: We need to hurry up and get ready so we can go to the doctor.
Diva: When I get to the doctor and take my panties off ...
Me (interupting): What? You don't have to take your panties off at the doctor. Why would you think that?
Daddy: No, just let her finish. This is good!
Me: Why do you need to take your panties off at the doctor?
Diva: So I can sit on the booty measuring 'sheen and we can see how big my booty is. 'Cause it keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger.
Daddy: What exactly did you tell her they do at the doctor's office?
Me: Well, not that!!!
As expected, while several measurements were taken at the doctor's office, there was no measuring of booties. They are still more concerned with height and weight, not the size of one's booty.
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